Our Dinner
by kissesforkay
Summary: I shove some of the cheap Girl Scout cookies down my throat as I think, Those brownies must have at least three sticks of butter and a helluva lot of sugar.  Then, I think, maybe, just maybe, if I eat enough of those double fudge brownies it’ll fill that


**Our Dinner**

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Rachael Ray I am not. I will never have my own Food Network TV show and I will never be a world class chef. But never mind that. Tonight has to be perfect. It's the night I've been dreaming about since I first laid eyes on you. Right now it's 6:00 and the table is set. The candles are lit. Our _Twinkle Towne_ music is playing. The garlic and herb chicken served over bowtie pasta is keeping warm in the oven. And I am anxiously waiting.

I take off my apron and smooth down my black dress. I glance at the mirror in the hallway and I smile at my reflection. It took me three hours to get ready. I consulted all my magazines and Taylor to make sure my hair, dress, and makeup were all perfect. _This is it_, I say to myself, _I'm telling him how I feel tonight._ As I am applying a fresh coat of my ruby red lipstick the doorbell rings.

Immediately, my palms are sweaty and my breath quickens. I take a few breaths before I smile to myself and slowly make my way to the door. I pat my hair and quickly glance over my body to make sure I look good. I open the door and it isn't you. It's a small girl in green, her red hair in pigtails. She holds a box of cookies out, "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?" she asks. I end up buying two boxes before sending her on her way. I close the door and sigh. A false alarm.

A glance at the clock confirms what I already know. You're late. I sit on the couch and replay our conversation from earlier.

_Flashback_

_Troy Bolton grinned evilly as he saw his best friend, Gabriella Montez, at her locker, her head completely submerged within the confines of her locker. He waited until he heard her exasperated sigh, which told him that she had given up searching for her English book. He then slowly crept towards her much like a panther stalking its prey. He had just lifted his arms and begun wiggling his fingers for a full-on Troy-the-tickle-monster attack when Gabriella's sharp voice broke his concentration._

_ "Now is not the time, Troy Bolton. I can't find my English book and it had my notes in it. Darbus is going to kill me…" she trailed off._

_ "Ah," Troy replied, "A damsel in distress! Perhaps, a dashing young knight, such as myself, can be of assistance..." replied dramatically as he produced her English book from his backpack._

_ "Oh, good sir, thank you ever so much!" Gabriella replied, chuckling. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something," Gabriella said shyly, "Remember those dress-up play dates that we used to have when we were younger?"_

_ "You mean the ones where you'd force me to wear some ridiculous costume and then feed me 'cake' that was actually dirt from your mom's garden?" Troy asked with one eyebrow raised. "Those awful play dates?"_

_ "Oh goody!" Gabriella replied, "So you do remember! Anyway, I was watching the Food Network the other day and Rachael Ray was cooking this dish that I really, really wanted to try. So, then I thought, who else on this earth would I want to share this with except the most handsome guy I know, Troy Bolton? So, what do you say? Please, please, please let me feed you my new recipe," Gabriella begged._

_ "I don't know, Brie…" Troy said as he scratched his neck nervously, "The last thing you cooked wasn't very, well…"_

_ "Oh, this one will be so much better!" Gabriella interrupted, "Or, at least I hope so…"_

_Troy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "Well, it'd have to be after basketball practice. I can be at your house at six."_

_Gabriella beamed. "Excellent! Six it is! Bring your appetite! Oh, and don't forget, we're playing dress up, so look sharp!" _

_End Flashback_

_You definitely said six_, I mumble to myself. I sigh and glance at the clock again. 6:45 the hands tell me. I resign myself to wait fifteen more minutes for you. Fifteen minutes to decided my fate. Our fate, or whatever we could be. I begin to repeat the speech I carefully prepared for you. The speech that would hopefully take us from being best friends to being a couple.

It's 7:00 and my speech is completely useless. You aren't here. You didn't even call. I try and make myself feel better. _Maybe you forgot_, I think, but deep inside I know that isn't right. You aren't that kind of guy that would just up and forget. I sigh and take out the dinner that I so lovingly prepared for us and take a bite. It's delicious. I don't want to keep it. Just a reminder of my ruined night. The night. It was supposed to be _the_ night. Our night. Our start.

I throw the food away and put the dishes in the cupboard. I take off my strappy heels, wipe off my makeup, and change into my pajamas. I crawl into bed. It's only 7:30, but I don't care. I lie in bed just staring at the ceiling, wishing. Wishing I could have that fairytale ending. Wishing you would be the milk to me cookie, or whatever cornball metaphor works.

It's 8:00. The phone rings. It's you. I pick up the phone, but before I can speak, I hear your excited voice coming through the phone,

"I know, I missed the dinner, Brie and I'm sorry about that, but you know Jennifer Waits from our grade?"

Of course I do. She's beautiful. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Killer smile. And unbelievably nice. I feel as though I'm going to hate her really soon. You ignore my silence and continue,

"Well she was waiting for me after basketball practice. And, it was so cute Brie, she had this whole speech prepared about how she's liked me for the longest time and how she finally got the courage to tell me. So anyway, I was really excited and it turns out we have a lot in common. You know she's obsessed with Scooby Doo, too? Anyway, long story short, we have a date set for next weekend!"

"That's great, Troy, great…" I whisper softly. I'm hoping this is a nightmare. I pinch myself. It's not.

"So, yeah. I'm really sorry about missing the dinner, but I can come right now if you want me to…" you say apologetically.

"Don't bother," I say, "The food was terrible. I threw it away. In fact, I'm feeling a little sick right now." Sure, it was a lie, but I don't care.

"Oh, well I guess I'm lucky I missed it then," you laugh. "Anyway, I hope you feel better and I'll see you at school tomorrow. Okay, Brie?" My name rolling off your tongue burns a hole in my heart and I hang up the phone before you can hear my tears fall. I've changed my mind. I wasn't completely lying earlier. I do feel sick now. And the only one who can make me feel better is you.

Salty tears run down my cheeks as I realized I'm too late. Too late to tell you that I love you. Jennifer Waits wasn't too late. She got you. She wins. And I lose. And yes, I really do hate her right now.

There's a hole in my heart and I don't know what to do. I turn on the TV and I see Paula Dean making a double fudge brownie complete with frosting. I shove some of the cheap Girl Scout cookies down my throat as I think, _Those brownies must have at least three sticks of butter and a helluva lot of sugar._ Then, I think, maybe, just maybe, if I eat enough of those double fudge brownies it'll fill that hole in my heart that you left. And maybe then I'll get over you.

But I know that isn't true.


End file.
